出三藏記集 8

English (machine translation) 8

Language: English

Preface to the Excerpted Mohe boluoruo boluomi jing (Mahāprajñāpāramitā-sūtra), Number 1 — Master Dao'an
Preface to the Dapin jing (Larger Prajñāpāramitā-sūtra), Number 2 — Master Rui of Chang'an
Preface to the Annotated Dapin jing, Number 3 — The Emperor of the Great Liang
Preface to the Xiaopin jing (Smaller Prajñāpāramitā-sūtra), Number 4 — Master Rui of Chang'an
Preface to the Comparative Summary of the Larger and Smaller Prajñāpāramitā-sūtras, Number 5 — Composed by Zhi Daolin
Record of the Zheng fahua jing (Saddharmapuṇḍarīka-sūtra), Number 6 — Postface to the Translated Sūtra
Postface to the Zheng fahua jing, Number 7 — Author Unknown
Preface to the Essentials of the Lotus Sūtra, Number 8 — Master Huiguan
Postface to the Lotus Sūtra, Number 9 — Master Rui of Chang'an
Postface to the Chixin jing (Viśeṣacintabrahma-paripṛcchā-sūtra), Number 10 — Postface to the Translated Sūtra
Preface to the Siyi jing (Viśeṣacinti-brahma-paripṛcchā-sūtra), Number 11 — Master Rui of Chang'an
Preface to the Vimalakīrtinirdeśa-sūtra, Number 12 — Master Sengzhao
Preface to the Combined Vimalakīrtinirdeśa-sūtras, Number 13 — Master Mindu
Preface to the Exegesis on the Vimalakīrtinirdeśa-sūtra, Number 14 — Master Rui of Chang'an
Postface to the Zizaiwang jing (Īśvararāja-sūtra), Number 15 — Master Rui of Chang'an
Preface to the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra, Number 16 — Master Lang of Liangzhou
Preface to the Record of the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra, Number 17 — Author Unknown
Record of the Six-Fascicle Nirvāṇa-sūtra, Number 18 — Postface to the Translated Sūtra
Record of the Twenty-Fascicle Nirvāṇa-sūtra, Number 19 — From the Biography of Zhimeng

8.3

Preface to the Excerpted Mohe boluoruo boluomi jing (Mahāprajñāpāramitā-sūtra), Number 1

8.4

Master Dao'an

8.5

Formerly, when I was south of the Han River for fifteen years, I lectured on the Fangguang jing (Pañcaviṃśatisāhasrikā-prajñāpāramitā-sūtra) twice every year. After arriving at the capital, nearly four years have passed, and I have also constantly done so twice a year, not daring to grow lax or indolent. Yet whenever I reached obscure phrases whose beginning and end were unclear, I would lay down the scroll and ponder deeply, regretting that I could not meet Dharmarakṣa, Mokṣala, and others. It happened that in the first month of the eighteenth year of the Jianyuan era, the King of the Nearer Tribe of Jushi, named Midi, came to the court. His national preceptor, named Kumārabodhi, presented an Indian text of the Dapin (Larger Prajñāpāramitā) in one work of 402 leaves, said to be twenty thousand ślokas—a śloka being thirty-two syllables, which is the Indian method of counting scriptures. Upon carefully counting it, there were altogether 17,260 ślokas, with 27 syllables remaining, making a total of 552,475 syllables.

8.6

The Indian śramaṇa Dharmapriya held the original text, and Buddhapāla translated it. Comparing and collating against it, Huijin served as scribal recorder. Where it was identical with the Fangguang and the Guangzan, nothing new was produced. Where the translators of those two sūtras had made omissions, the passages were emended and corrected accordingly at the points of error. Where the meanings differed and it was not known which was correct, both were retained together, often with explanatory notes provided below. In all there are four fascicles; one sūtra makes five fascicles. In translating from Hu into Qin, there are five losses of the original. First, the Hu syntax is completely inverted, yet it is made to conform to Qin: this is the first loss of the original. Second, Hu sūtras value unadorned substance, while the people of Qin favor literary refinement; to convey them so as to please the minds of the multitude, unless they are refined they will not suit: this is the second loss of the original. Third, Hu sūtras are minute and detailed; when coming to praises and eulogies, they are deliberate and repetitive, [saying things] three or four times without minding the tediousness, but these are now trimmed and removed: this is the third loss of the original. Fourth, Hu texts have expository notes that seem just like disorderly phrases; when one examines what has just been said, the text does not differ, yet sometimes a thousand or five hundred [words] are pruned away and not retained: this is the fourth loss of the original. Fifth, after an account is fully completed, when it is about to touch on something else collateral, it recurs back over the previous phrasing before stating the subsequent, but all of this is eliminated: this is the fifth loss of the original. Yet as for the Prajñā Sūtra, it was expounded by the three-fold attained mind and the face-covering tongue [of the Buddha]. The Sage invariably accorded with the times, but the customs of the times change; to prune the elegant antiquity to suit the present day is the first difficulty. Fools and the wise are separated as heaven from earth, and the Sage is impossible to scale; yet wanting to take the subtle words from over a thousand years ago and convey them so as to suit the debased customs under a hundred kings is the second difficulty. When Ānanda brought forth the sūtras, it was not long after the Buddha had passed; the Venerable Mahākāśyapa had five hundred [arhats] with the six supernatural knowledges examine them in turn and record them in turn. Now, separated by a thousand years, we measure and sever them with our immediate notions; those arhats were so cautious and apprehensive, yet these men of birth and death are so casual and complacent—is it not that those ignorant of the Dharma are daring? This is the third difficulty. Venturing into these five losses and undergoing the three difficulties, in translating Hu into Qin, how could one not be prudent? One should merely aim to prevent foreign words from remaining uncomprehended, conveying them so that their common sense is known, that is all. Why further criticize the merits and defects of the great masters? This is something I would never dare to claim to understand. Among earlier men who brought forth sūtras, Zhi Qian and Shigao accurately grasped the Hu originals, which are difficult to equal; Mokṣala and Zhi Qian were skilled at shaping and carving. Skilled they were indeed, yet I fear that once the openings were bored, Chaos met his end. As for considering the Odes redundant and the Book of Documents crude, and pruning them to suit the present day—this is what Ma [Rong] and Zheng [Xuan] deeply lamented. Recently, in bringing forth this excerpt, I wished to keep it unmixed and to fathom the doctrinal purport of the sūtra, fearing only to lose the truth. Where there were dialect words or archaic phrasing, I provided explanations below on my own. Where previously the beginning and end were mutually contradictory and the sentences did not make sense, now they matched silently like two halves of a tally, fitting together as if rejoined after being broken. Thereupon one saw the deep errors of the predecessors and rejoiced at the auspicious encounter of communicating with the foreign realms. In the ninety chapters, there is vastness with no place left for doubt; down to the finest hair's tip, all is obliterated without the slightest flaw. That is all.

8.7

Namo to all Buddhas—Buddhas of the past, future, and present—as well as to the illumination of all dharmas. (This is the Indian formula for paying homage to Prajñā. "Illumination" means wisdom. In foreign lands there are four kinds of salutations: first, jieya; second, boluonan; third, ponan; fourth, namo. Namo means bending the body; it is kneeling. These four bows are salutations used commonly for the Buddha, non-Buddhists, rulers of countries, and parents alike. Paying homage to parents is called namo sajia; sajia means offering.)

8.8

Extracts from the Mahā- (great) prajñā- (wisdom) pāra- (crossing over) mitā (boundless) Sūtra (Indian sūtras have no opening titles; opening titles all say "auspicious dharma"—"auspicious dharma" is indeed this; Dao'an created this initial heading and title).

8.9

Preface to the Pañcaviṃśatisāhasrikā-prajñāpāramitā-sūtra (Large Chapter), No. 2

8.10

By the Śākya Sengrui of Chang'an

8.11

Mahāprajñāpāramitā is the thoroughfare by which one emerges from the eight stages, the dragon-ford by which one ascends the ten levels. An abyss-treasury is insufficient to fathom its profound beauty, hence "great" is borrowed to designate it. A water-mirror cannot illustrate its clear lucidity, hence "wisdom" is applied to praise it. Reaching the end is insufficient to attain its ultimate bounds, hence "crossing over" is borrowed to illuminate it. Thus, its function relies on being and non-being, and so the name "crossing over" is established; it illumines the root and stills the branches, and so the designation of "wisdom" arises; it vast and universally encompasses without exterior, and so the title of "great" originates. Though these three names conceptually touch upon the realm of existence, their destination reaches non-mind; though their traces rely on the functional, their merit in truth depends on nothing. Because it is non-mind, non-abiding is made its principle; because it depends on nothing, non-illumination is made its root. Its root being non-illumination, knowledge congeals at the origin of transformation; its principle being non-mind, effort is forgotten in the stage of practice. Therefore, opening the chapter of the profound gate, it begins with non-abiding; wonderfully returning to the three wisdoms, it ends with non-attainment. Provisional names illumine its reality; responsive actions manifest its clarity; the unproduced empties its functioning; merits and virtues proclaim its depth. Great illumination anticipates the end to verify the beginning; expedient means (upāya) adheres to the beginning to awaken to the end. How vast! Truly it can be called the open thoroughfare of the great enterprise, the essential track that culminates the Buddha Vehicle! Because the treasure is precious, the defense is deep; because the merit is high, the comparison is broad. That the entrustment is so earnest and the merit is repeatedly multiplied is truly with good reason. Yet when the sūtra came to this land, it was translated into the speech of Qin; its canons and models departed from the differing rules, and name and reality were lost through lack of precision. This resulted in the search being ever more earnest while the departure grew ever more distant; reins pulled up at successive barriers, the blind alleys grew ever wider. Had it not met with profound masters, it would nearly have fallen into ruin. My late master, the Upādhyāya [Dao]an, cleared the barren paths to open ruts, and pointed out the profound purport in the emptiness of nature; he discarded discordant traces and arrived directly, hardly being obstructed by erroneous texts. In his tireless effort, his insight went more than halfway, surpassing others by far. Dharma Master Kumārajīva's insightful mind was enlightened early on, extraordinarily transcendent; heavenly demons lured him but could not turn him aside, and profound intellects questioned him but could not bend him. Fanning the lingering breeze of Nāgārjuna, he set the reverberation of wisdom ringing in this world. The King of Qin, moved by his coming, opened what had stagnated according to the opportune moment. In the third year of Hongshi, when the year was in the Star-Marker, on the twentieth day of the twelfth month in winter, he arrived in Chang'an. The King of Qin knocked at his empty gate, and the master artisan shaped his profound intent. Once the empty gate was thrown open, these texts and words were rectified; once the profound intent was proclaimed, his explanatory commentary was produced. On the banks of the Wei flowed the transformative influence of Jetavana; the Ximing [Monastery] opened the mind of the Tathāgata; the Xiaoyao [Garden] gathered monks of virtue and righteousness; and the capital overflowed with the sounds of chanting the Way. Is it not here that the middle-period revival in the Final Dharma age will begin? Having recognized my destiny and encountered this true teaching, I dared to exhaust my humble sincerity to undertake the translation assignment. At the moment of taking up the brush, thrice reflecting on my late master's instructions on the five losses and three difficulties, anxiety and fear mingled in my breast, terrified as if walking on the edge of a precipice; even treading on thin ice or standing before a deep abyss would not suffice as an analogy. Fortunately, relying on the universal discernment of the leading master, though the phrasing wavered, the purport did not depart from the middle; thereupon I reverently received and examined the translation, daring to undertake this responsibility. In the fifth year of Hongshi, the year being Guimao, on the twenty-third day of the fourth month, this sūtra was brought forth in the Xiaoyao Garden to the north of the capital. The Dharma Master held the Hu text in hand and orally proclaimed it in the speech of Qin; both explained the differing phonetics and mutually clarified the text's purport. The King of Qin personally held the old sūtra to verify its merits and defects, inquiring into its unobstructed path and laying open its essential purport. Together with more than five hundred senior and experienced śramaṇas of doctrinal accomplishment—Shi Huigong, Sengrui, Sengqian, Baodu, Huijing, Faqin, Daoliu, Sengrui, Daohui, Daobiao, Daoheng, Daochong, and others—they scrutinized the doctrinal purport, verified the text's core, and only then wrote it down. On the fifteenth day of the twelfth month of that year, the translation was completed. Through collation and verification, it was finally concluded on the twenty-third day of the fourth month of the following year. Although the text was roughly established, when examined against the explanatory commentary there was still much left incomplete; therefore, as the commentary was produced, the text was corrected accordingly. Only after the explanatory commentary was finished was the text established. Before this fixing was completed, there were already those who copied and transmitted it, and those who arbitrarily added or subtracted, privately giving it the title Prajñāpāramitā. This caused errors in the words and phrasing, making the earlier and later versions inconsistent. This was truly because later students lacked humility and harbored shallow views, having strong confidence in their own opinions. In the Hu original, only the Introductory Chapter, the Avaivartika Chapter, and the Māra Chapter had titles; the rest merely numbered their matters and items. The Dharma Master, considering that titles were not instituted by the Buddha, retained only the Introductory Chapter and omitted the other two headings. Where the names of these matters and items differed from the old ones, they were all rectified by the Dharma Master according to the meaning. For instance, names like yin, ru, and chi departed from the meaning, so they were altered according to the meaning: yin became zhong, ru became chu, chi became xing, jietuo became beishe, chuyu became shengchu, yizhi became nianchu, yiduan became zhengqin, jueyi became puti, and zhixing became shengdao. In cases such as these, the revisions were exceedingly numerous. Where Hu sounds were erroneous, they were corrected by means of Tianzhu; where Qin designations were mistaken, they were fixed according to the meaning of the characters. Those that could not be changed were written down as they were. Therefore, divergent names are varied and brilliant, with Hu pronunciations nearly half. This is truly the impartiality and prudence of the master, and the gravity and caution of the scribal recorder. It is my fortunate hope that the worthy who honor reality and revere the root will examine and embody this, neither blaming it for its plain phrasing nor suspecting it for its tedious differences.

8.12

Preface to the Annotated Pañcaviṃśatisāhasrikā-prajñāpāramitā-sūtra, No. 3

8.13

By the Emperor of the Great Liang

8.14

Before an event takes form, the six lines [of the hexagram] reveal its remorse and humiliation; once the celestial signs move, the nine chapters calculate their waxing and waning. Thus ghosts and spirits cannot conceal their true conditions, and yin and yang cannot hide their changes and transmutations. As for the Mahāprajñāpāramitā, however, it is thoroughly penetrating without bottom, vast and open without limit. The path of mental action is extinguished; the way of language is cut off. It cannot be sought by numbers and techniques; it cannot be known by conceptual consciousness. It is not what the three knowledges can illumine, nor what the four analytical knowledges can debate. This is the correct practice of bodhisattvas, the direct route to the place of awakening (bodhimaṇḍa), the true Dharma for returning to the source, and the foremost essential for departure [from saṃsāra]. Originally it is not so, being ultimately empty and tranquil. To apply the word 'great' cannot fully reveal its breadth; to name it 'wisdom' cannot adequately cover its function; to call it 'crossing over' cannot seize its efficacy; to borrow [the term] 'shore' cannot exhaust its reality. If one speaks of the single characteristic, it transcends the hundred negations. Bodhisattvas in the position of one life away from buddhahood (eka-jāti-pratibaddha) are silent, and those of equal awakening (samyaksambodhi) cease their activity. Only then can it be called having no virtue that can be praised, using nominal characteristics where there are none to speak of nominal characteristics, in order to guide the intentions of seekers and open the eyes of the newly resolved. Hence there is the term prajñā and the designation 'other shore'. Lately, students have rarely revered it, or when they hear it, they do not obtain the sūtra's flavour. Śakra's truthful words are indeed verified. This is truly the hundred anxieties of the assembly of the worthy and the demonic affairs (mārakarman) of bodhisattvas. Therefore, the higher the song, the fewer who join in harmony; the rarer the knowledge, the more precious the Way. This has caused the orthodox sūtra to sink into neglect and deficiency in the world. It is truly because those who empty their minds are few, while those who harbour doubts are many. When few empty their minds, the view of 'self' is deep; when many harbour doubts, the anxieties of fabricated constructs are numerous. Even though the manifold anxieties are chaotic, they do not exceed four types: First, it is said that this sūtra is not definitive, frequently citing the Nirvāṇa [Sūtra] as the decisive verdict. Second, it is said that this sūtra does not yet converge the three [vehicles], all reciting the Lotus [Sūtra] to raise grand challenges. Third, it is said that this sūtra is the shared teaching of the three vehicles, and that the prajñā it expounds is merely the śrāvaka Dharma. Fourth, it is said that this sūtra belongs to graduated practice, expounded at the second period within the gradual teaching. Such are the old interpretations, which lack correctness. Let me briefly compare these four points and roughly state my view. The Nirvāṇa reveals the fruit's virtue, while prajñā clarifies the cause's practice. Revealing the fruit takes the eternal Buddha-nature as the root; clarifying the cause takes the unborn Middle Way as the principle. Speaking in terms of conventional truth, there is nirvāṇa and there is prajñā; speaking in terms of ultimate truth, how could one still speak of their superiority or inferiority? The Lotus Sūtra converges the three to return to the one; thus the three are discarded while the one remains. When the one remains, it is not yet free of characteristics; hence it takes the myriad good deeds as the vehicle's substance. Prajñā identifies with the three yet is not three; thus the three are discarded and the one also disappears. Since there is no phenomenon to be attained, it takes the unborn as the vehicle's substance. The unborn cuts off proliferative discourse (prapañca); in the end, what three are there to be converged? This is what is meant by 'a hundred flowers of differing colours together form a single shade; ten thousand phenomena of diverse characteristics together enter into prajñā.' Those who claim it is the shared teaching of the three vehicles mostly cling to two passages. Now I shall open five meanings to increase their doubts: First, whether it is the knowledge or the abandonment of the śrāvakas, all are the bodhisattva's acquiescence in the non-arising of phenomena (anutpattika-dharma-kṣānti). Second, those of the three vehicles studying the Way should hear prajñā. Third, those of the three vehicles jointly studying prajñā all attain bodhi. Fourth, those of the two vehicles wishing to abide or wishing to realize do not depart from this acquiescence. Fifth, arhats and pratyekabuddhas are born from prajñā. Failing to properly distinguish these five meanings, they adamantly cling to the view that the three vehicles' teachings share the same gate, thereby causing vermilion and purple to share the same colour, and inferior stone and jade to be priced equally. If one clearly examines these statements and deeply seeks the sūtra's meaning, once the linked rings are untied, juggling the pellets will naturally cease. To say it belongs to the second period is also not so. People's minds are different, just as their faces; the differences in their faculties and natures surpass even this. They cannot be restricted to a single teaching or limited to five periods. The unborn prajñā is devoid of the characteristics of coming and going; how could it be constrained by quantity, or how could it be sought in sequential stages? From the tree of awakening to the twin śāla trees, at the beginning, middle, and end, wisdom was constantly preached; how then could it be called a gradual teaching? The Commentary (Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa) states: Subhūti heard that in the Lotus Sūtra it is said that performing a little merit before the Buddha, even in jest, will gradually lead to becoming a Buddha without fail; he also heard that in the chapter on Avaivartika there is retrogressing and non-retrogressing; and he furthermore heard that all śrāvaka persons will become Buddhas. Therefore he now asks whether it is definitively fixed or not definitively fixed. Judging from this, they are even further removed. Now, in studying liberation, one does not seek words; one should determine the path of contemplation to rectify the principle. If the three vehicles are not distinguished, on what meaning could it be spoken? Characteristics and characteristiclessness are like fire and water, their two natures contrary; how could they be joined in a single thread? Although all noble ones rely on unconditioned phenomena, when the three vehicles enter emptiness, their practices differ: śrāvakas, through the contemplation of disintegrating conditions, contemplate the emptiness of arising and ceasing; pratyekabuddhas, through the contemplation of causes and conditions, contemplate the emptiness of dharmatā; bodhisattvas, through the contemplation of the unborn, contemplate ultimate emptiness. This is just like the different tastes of the Zi and Mian rivers, or the divided currents of the Jing and Wei rivers; it cannot be won by mouth, nor contended for by strength. If one wishes to overtake the bewildered and lost, where else should one go from here? If one encounters a great treasure but does not take it, or meets a profound sūtra but does not seek it, how is it different from the impoverished son fleeing backward into his own home, or the blind old woman covering her eyes on the road? This is indeed the habitual nature of deluded conduct, the constant state of mind of those lost on the way. They only love dragons by viewing paintings, and cherish elephants by playing with their footprints. At Mount Jing one may well shed tears of grief, [longing for] the waters of the Dharma. Therefore the Mahākāruṇika-sūtra uses the analogy of the hare and horse, and the treatises use the metaphor of the deer and rhinoceros, both pairing them with a single elephant to form three beasts: using the crossing of the river to measure the water's depth, and relying on surrounding arrows to verify wisdom, to gauge the depth of attaining emptiness and measure the thickness of the mind attached to characteristics. When a mirror is suspended in front, there is no need for auditory consciousness; once Li Lou has gazed, why trouble a physiognomist? If there were no inconceivable principle, how could there be inconceivable phenomena? Radiating auspicious light across the three-thousandfold [world], gathering transported lotuses from the ten directions, turning the great earth to golden colour, adorning the flower dais in empty space, manifesting the tongue characteristic's non-falsity, and verifying the reality of prajñā. This is why Nāgārjuna, Shi Dao'an, Kumārajīva, and Huiyuan all responded to the world with great expedients, or rescued their age by nearing the sage's realm; none of them failed to submit to the supreme Dharma and practice as taught. How much less should ordinary people depart from this! It has been two hundred and fifty-eight years since this sūtra spread eastward, beginning in the fifth year of the Ganlu era of the Wei dynasty when it arrived from Khotan. Zhu Shulan opened the source; Shi Dao'an guided the river; Kumārajīva showered it with sweet springs. With three translations and five collations, it may well be called thorough. Bodhisattva Nāgārjuna composed the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa, explicating this sūtra with complete and comprehensive meanings. This is truly a wish-fulfilling jewel treasury, a vast ocean of wisdom. But its text is vast and expansive, which constantly intimidates mundane minds. In my leisure days from hearing governance, I gathered twenty eminent monks, including Fachong of Tianbao Monastery, to examine what to adopt and what to reject; and together with Huiling and others of Yungen Monastery, they applied scribal effort to draw upon the commentary to annotate the root sūtra, omitting redundant explanations and taking the essential comments. Besides this, they sometimes gleaned the old interpretations of Guanhe (Chang'an), or relied on the past words of earlier masters, occasionally inserting them to illuminate one another. If the chapter's divisions were not yet clear or the doctrinal drift was profound and weightier, they conferred with colleagues to broaden their views, making it plain without being terse, ornate without being repetitive, so that scholars might achieve more than half the insight. Those who lecture on the Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra often speak of five periods. At first hearing, it seems orderly, but when re-examined closely, most points do not agree. Only the Humane King Prajñā Sūtra fully records the names and divisions; but since the world already regards it as a dubious sūtra, I now set it aside without discussion. Sengrui's preface to the Small Perfection states: 'The authentic text of this sūtra has four versions in all, which are the Buddha's expositions suited to conversions at different times: the longest has one hundred thousand verses, and the shortest has six hundred verses.' It briefly outlines the four versions without listing their names. The Commentary states: 'The sections of prajñā have more and fewer.' The Guangzan, Fangguang, and Daoxing cite only three titles, not completing four. In this land there is another separate single fascicle called the Diamond Prajñā; if one wishes to match the number, it can make five. Since we do not possess all the sūtra titles, nor do we know the chronological sequence of their times, making subjective judgments would easily invite censure. This is not the essential matter for discussion; let us await those of broad learning. The present commentary on the Large Perfection naturally has five sections, which are not the so-called 'five periods of prajñā': Exhorting the preaching uses non-abiding to mark the beginning; Commanding the preaching uses having no teaching to open the path; Vowing to preach uses non-attainment to manifest the practice; Believing the preaching uses profound depth to praise the Dharma; Extensive preaching uses inexhaustibility to conclude the essentials. This is why the middle chapters repeat the instructions, and why the final chapter entrusts it thrice. The meaning is fully provided in the later commentary, so I shall not elaborate. Even if times were long without the true teaching and places lacked the name of the Dharma, one would still endure bitter hardship in grassy marshes, traversing perilous and distant lands, raising one's heart to listen afar, focusing the mind on the subtle and silent, hoping for a profound response and imagining the voice of emptiness, regarding life lightly to esteem half a verse, selling one's body to venerate a single phrase, gladly shedding blood without doubt, and joyfully extracting marrow without begrudging. How much more so when the divine pearl of the dragon palace, the jewel terrace, and the gold plates—such hard-to-obtain treasures and hard-to-hear Dharmas—are spread throughout stupas and temples, filling one's view right before one's eyes! How could one not submit one's mind to receive and uphold it, emptying one's heart to delve into and look up to it, so that the seed of Buddhahood continues and bodhi is unbroken? To repay kindness in full, there is no other way. Comparing it to the Snowy Mountains or matching it with Gandhavatī, how could one speak of their superiority or inferiority in the same breath? Writing down what has been attained, I fear increasing future errors. May the wise and eminent of later generations fortunately practice in accordance with the Dharma.

8.15

Preface to the Small Perfection Sūtra, Number 4

8.16

Composed by Shi Sengrui

8.17

The Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra is the maxim that exhausts principle and plumbs nature, the grand guideline for bodhisattvas to achieve buddhahood. If the guideline were not grand, it would not suffice to unify differing views and point them to their return; if nature were not exhausted, how could beings ascend the place of awakening and achieve perfect enlightenment? The reason perfect enlightenment is achieved and the differing views are unified—how could it not stem from this path? Therefore, diverse teachings were diligently offered, and the three reassurances were repeatedly issued; merits were layered and compared, and the nine increases frequently occurred. As when questioning characteristics marks the mystery and makes mysterious its mystery; the chapter on illusions forgets attachment and forgets its forgetting; the Daoxing smoothens its ford; difficult questions exhaust its source; rejoicing forgets destinations to summarize the end; and illumination does not transform so as to identify with the mystery. Although the chapters are thirty, what runs through them is the Way; although the words are a hundred thousand, what doubles them is practice. When practice coalesces, there is non-arising; when the Way is sufficient, there is one life away from buddhahood (eka-jāti-pratibaddha); reaching this, it transforms into all-knowledge (sarvajñatā). The Lotus mirrors the root to coalesce illumination, while prajñā unifies the branches to release suspension. Releasing suspension guides the principle, heading along the bodhisattva path; coalescing illumination mirrors the root, announcing its conclusion. If the conclusion is not obliterated, the return path will branch out, leaving traces of three realities; if the provisional responses are not levelled, the chaotic threads will be tangled, giving rise to diverse bewildered destinies. Therefore, the Lotus and prajñā rely upon each other to await completion; expedient means and true transformation unify to exhaustively encompass all. Speaking of exhausting principle and plumbing nature, and levelling and illuminating the myriad practices, reality is not as good as illumination; taking its grand illumination of true transformation and realizing that originally there are no three, illumination is not as good as reality. For this reason, when praising profundity, the merit of prajñā is weighty; when extolling reality, the function of the Lotus is subtle. The veneration of this sūtra, with its three reassurances and three entrustments, is not at all surprising. There was a Crown Prince of Qin who lodged his presence in the eastern palace while matching his aspirations beyond the mundane realm. Savoring this sūtra, his dreaming aspirations intensified, and aligning his understanding with the Large Perfection, he deeply recognized the faults of earlier translators. Just then, he heard that Master Kumārajīva had divinely been conferred its text, and the true original was still preserved. On the sixth day of the second month of the tenth year of the Hongshi era, he requested that it be produced. On the thirtieth day of the fourth month, the collation was entirely completed. Examining it against the old translations, it was truly as if, in weeding the crops of an overgrown field, more than half had been weeded away, yet not excessively so. The authentic text of this sūtra has four versions in all, which are the Buddha's extensive and abridged expositions suited to conversions at different times. The longest is said to have one hundred thousand verses, and the shortest six hundred verses. This Large Perfection is indeed the medium version in India. Being words according with what was appropriate, why must one calculate their quantity or debate their complexity and simplicity? The foreign text was refined and plain; translating it according to the original, it fell short in ornate skill, but had an excess of simple correctness. Fortunately, I hope that worthy individuals of literary discernment will set aside its flourishes and approach its reality.

8.18

Preface to the Comparative Summary of the Large and Small Perfections, Number 5

8.19

Composed by Zhi Daolin

8.20

Now, prajñāpāramitā is the profound repository of myriad subtleties, the dark principle of all wisdoms, that from which the spiritual sovereign arises, and the illuminating potency of the Tathāgata. As a scripture, it is supremely non-existent, vacuous, expansive, and devoid of things. Being devoid of thinghood amidst things, it can equalize all things; being devoid of knowing amidst knowing, it can actuate wisdom. Therefore, it levels the three liberations in double profundity and equalizes the ten thousand things in ultimate voidness, illuminates the origin of all Buddhas, exhausts the fundamental non-existence of all sentient spirits, scales the wondrous stages of the ten abodes, and takes the direct road to non-arising. Why is this? Relying on its supreme non-existence, it is thereby capable of function. As for non-existence itself, how could it merely be non-existent? Non-existence cannot make itself non-existent, nor can the principle make itself principle. If the principle cannot make itself principle, then principle is not principle; if non-existence cannot make itself non-existent, then non-existence is not non-existence. Therefore, wondrous stages are not stages, and non-arising is not arising. The wondrous originates from the un-wondrous; non-arising originates from arising. Thus, the designations of the ten abodes arise from unfixed titles, and the wisdom of prajñā is born from the names of instructional traces. Therefore, when words are spoken, names arise; when teachings are established, wisdom subsists. Wisdom subsisting amidst things is truly traceless; names arising in that domain are inherently without words. Why so? The ultimate principle is a dark chasm returning to the nameless; being nameless and without beginning is the substance of the Way. Having nothing permissible and nothing impermissible is the sage's circumspection. If one circumspectly matches the principle to respond to movements, one cannot but resort to words. One must illuminate that whereby they are resorted to, and express that whereby they are spoken. When principle is dark, words are discarded; when awareness is forgotten, wisdom is made whole. If one preserves non-existence to seek quietude, or aspires to wisdom to forget the mind, such wisdom will not suffice to exhaust non-existence, nor will such quietude suffice to merge with the spirit. Why so? Because there remains preservation in what is preserved, and non-existence in what is made non-existent. Preserving what is preserved is not true preservation; desiring non-existence is not true non-existence. Why? One merely knows non-existence as non-existence, but does not know that whereby it is non-existent; one knows preservation as preservation, but does not know that whereby it is preserved. Desiring non-existence to forget non-existence is not the non-existence of true non-existence; relying on preservation to forget preservation is not the preservation of true preservation. Nothing compares to negating that whereby it is non-existent, and forgetting that whereby it is preserved. Forgetting that whereby it is preserved, there is no preservation in what is preserved; casting away that whereby it is non-existent, one forgets non-existence in what is non-existent. Forgetting non-existence, the subtle is preserved; the subtle being preserved, non-existence is exhausted. Exhausting non-existence, one forgets the profound; forgetting the profound, one is without mind. Only then do the two traces have no reliance, and non-existence and existence merge and exhaust. Therefore, the Buddhas rely on the beginninglessness of prajñā to clarify the spontaneous nature of the myriad things. Sentient beings forfeit the Way and drown their spirits in the abyss of desires; [the Buddhas] awaken the worldly masses with the wondrous Way, gradually diminishing desires to reach supreme non-existence, establishing dark virtue to broaden instructions, and guarding the valley spirit to preserve vacuity, equalizing all heads in dark oneness and returning all spirits to their fundamental non-existence. It is heard that the one who produced the Smaller Chapter was a master of the Way. He traveled in the outer regions for many a past year; as he is not recorded in the canons, his name remains unknown. I once heard earlier scholars pass down together: after the Buddha passed into extinction, from within the Larger Chapter, the Smaller Chapter was excerpted. As tradition has it, people only characterized him by his pure virtue and verified him through responsive events, illustrating his supreme attainment and nothing more; neither could anyone fathom his origin. Now, the consummate person encompasses all subtleties and condenses the spirit in the dark profound; responsive like an empty echo, his spiritual communion is boundlessly versatile. Establishing identical virtue to receive and transform, setting forth dark teachings to awaken the spirit, he relates past traces to investigate stagnation and expounds established regulations to open the source. Or, adapting to changes, he seeks penetration, and once the task is accomplished, transformation rests; suiting the capacities to make their allocations whole, once the allocations are sufficient, the teaching is set aside. Thus, principle is not the change, nor is change the principle; the teaching is not the substance, nor is substance the teaching. Therefore, among the thousands of changes and myriad transformations, none is outside the principle. How could the spirit be stirred? By remaining unstirred, it responds to changes without end. Endlessly changing, it is not the sage who resides in things; things change, yet not the sage; the sage has never begun to change. Thus, remaining teachings arise from changes, and theoretical stagnations are born of expedient means. Responsive reception preserves things; their principles converge in the same return, yet their words and numbers differ from the original, and their events are complete in their divergence. The efficacy of divergence arises because among the myriad kinds, the spiritual awakening may be slow or swift, always depending on their allocations. When the allocation is dim, the effort must be heavy: words accumulate and only then does awakening come. When the nature is clear, the spirit is luminous: upon encountering principle, it is profoundly free. Light and heavy have never failed to correspond to allocations. Therefore, in the sage's imparting of teachings, he does not abandon an allocation because the effort is heavy, nor does he retain lightness when an allocation is facile. Thus, that by which all kinds awaken and that by which allocated effort succeeds must require weight to carry through, relying on what is fitting to receive their allocations. This is the heavy effort of the awakened, not a redundancy in the sage's teaching. Now, the reason for abridging the general outline and completing the instructional efficacy is that one must wait for the outline to suit the capacity and condense the text to grasp the profound. Grasping the profound, penetration is easy; relying on capacity, compliance is easy. Yet beings do not realize that the two versions are not different, and that their overall intent converges upon the same ancestral principle; instead, they immediately consider the count of words as 'larger' or 'smaller,' and the lineage as refined or coarse. A concise text they call 'small'; an abundant text they call 'large.' They regard holding to the constant as penetration, and adapting to changes as frivolous; guarding numbers they regard as gain, and grasping the general outline as loss. Those followers who adhere to the literal letter are fettered in their views and bound by teachings; they place the Āgamas atop their heads, their spirits limited by narrow allocations; shallow in talent and unversed in classics, they venerate Confucianism and Mohism. Within the bounded domains of the great way, the intentions of sages, textual recordings, and phrases are interrogated, and teachings are obstructed. They consider venerating essentials as thorough understanding, and grasping the general outline as harming the ancestral principle. They require empirical verifications to clarify reality, and only when responsive proofs appear are their doubts subdued. Thus, the consummate person, according to the sentiments of the multitude, tested the principle, drawing proof from boiling oil, to clarify the fundamental substance of the Smaller Chapter and block the deep stagnation of the multitude's doubts; because of things requiring verification, he displayed proof to respond to them. Now, one cannot hastily rely on a single verification, designating him as one of pure virtue, or, if efficacy were lost in events, calling him an ordinary person, thus failing to comprehend the expedience of spiritual transformation, which commands dark responses for the future, unfolds liberating efficacy along disparate paths, and actuates boundless unity; instead, observing divergent tracks as differing systems, viewing provisional conversions as contrary to principle, taking the seat of the great treasure as delighting in kingship, and gathering relief goods as the beginning of desire. One merely knows that the consummate sage teaches, but knows not that whereby he teaches. Therefore, the sage establishes the boundaries of the Three Realms and darkly determines the myriad kinds. His teachings are not confined to a single path; he responds to things in myriad directions. Sometimes he diminishes teachings and deviates from non-existence, resorting to penetration to suit the occasion; sometimes he embraces the One to control existence, adhering to texts to clarify the ancestral principle, exalting the sacred scriptures as the standard for the world. Now, one who embodies the Way and exhausts the spirit cannot be interrogated through verbal teachings; one who roams in non-existence and treads in vacuity cannot be sought in physical vessels. Thus, the consummate person merely achieves penetration with respect to things. Clarifying that small and large are not different, he unfolds the profound signposts that have reliance, accommodating what is appropriate to things without being bound by petty obstacles. Perhaps with the Larger Chapter, the wording is luxuriant, the events extensive, and the metaphors vast and profound; though exhausting principle to its limit, it ultimately returns to dark unity. Yet its clarification of the ancestral principle and its overarching unification converge without divergence. This is likewise the timely instruction of the Great Sage, the differentiated allocation of the common people. If their allocated capacities are not the same, how could one seek simplicity from the sage? If simplicity does not stem from the sage, does it not rely on the words given to the common people? Now, as myriad sounds strike a bell, the echo holds them in unity; as the myriad things move the sage, the sage also responds in stillness. Therefore, the sound is not the echo, and words are not the sagely illumination. Furthermore, it is through the spirit that the future is known. One who knows the future is none other than the spirit itself. When the hidden dynamic stirs, the spirit is luminous; when the spirit is luminous, it anticipates and mirrors. It is clear that the coming and going are always within the mirror. For this reason, the consummate person foresaw that few in the future would compile it, and understood that talents and capacities would not be equal; thus, he simplified the instructional traces to exalt compliance, matching the allocations of all wisdoms, so that those who turn to it find it easy to synthesize, and those who know its rarity find it easy to practice. Yet the Larger Chapter has an abundance of words and enumerations, with rich, overflowing phrases and outlines, its questions and dialogues profound, its overarching principle vast and deep. Though the dark ancestral principle is easy to study, its detailed events are difficult to master fully. Therefore, it is clear that those who study must trace the footprints to find their destination, exhaustively grasp the ancestral intent, and demarcate its rise and resolution; only then will they awaken to what is obstructed and synthesize its dark essentials. Or they may need to examine all queries and clarify the dialogues, delving into the abstruse and researching the hidden to exhaust its wondrous intent. Or, because the teachings and enumerations are so vast that chanting and mastering them is hard to complete, when wanting to copy, venerate, and make offerings, their ability provides no means. Cases like these are manifold: the multitude looks up with narrow capacities, and those who truly pass through are exceedingly few. Therefore, the one who produced the Smaller Chapter drew upon the overarching thread, selected the various headings, corralled the numbers of events, and marked their origins in the ancestral principle, creating the Smaller Chapter; its diction and metaphors are pure and concise, and the unfolding of its import is unflagging. However, here and there it clarifies the ancestral principle and marks its convergence, causing the grand synthesis to have places [omitted] without harming the principle. Were it not for the supremely refined, who could understand this? Furthermore, observing its pathways and seeking its wondrous convergence, he grasped the beginning and pursued the end, thoroughly probing the profound import, mastering the royal signposts of the Larger Chapter, and fully providing the dark intent of the Smaller Chapter. Tirelessly, he drew nourishment from the dark flavor—refined indeed! Exhaustive indeed! Nothing could be added to it. This man's spirit surely reigned over the dark crossings, and his physical form was numbered among the myriad things; his measure is unfathomable. One should seek him beyond the fishing-trap and place him outside the profound. In the past, I heard it said: The Larger and Smaller Chapters both derived from the Root Chapter. The text of the Root Chapter contains six hundred thousand words. At present, it circulates in India and has not yet reached the Jin. These two excerpts also arose from the great root, but their translators were different, and the Smaller Chapter was produced first. However, although these two sūtras both derive from the Root Chapter, there are occasional differences: sometimes what the Smaller Chapter possesses is not recorded in the Larger Chapter, and what the Larger Chapter is equipped with is lacking in the Smaller Chapter. Why is this? Perhaps because the events in both are identical, they rely upon each other to clarify that their root is one; thus, they were not both set down. The Smaller Chapter is extremely brief, darkly summarizing essential matters and raising the ancestral principle; the Larger Chapter, though graceful and intricate in its phrasing, does not lose the root return. As for the commentators, some use isolated phrases to deduce events without seeking the figurative meaning; or many cut according to their own ideas without relying on the scripture's root. Consequently, the lineages of texts contradict each other, and their doctrinal points diverge alike. The various rites are practiced in a one-sided manner, losing the dark intent; or they lose the guiding framework, erroneously adducing events, using clever words to argue falsity as the scriptural body. Although their literary style is clear and free, their theoretical synthesis deviates from the ancestral principle. Therefore, when earlier sages produced scriptures, they took the foreign text as the root; though the Smaller Chapter is an excerpt, it takes the Larger as its ancestral principle. Deducing from the foreign text can illuminate the principle; verifying against the Larger can regulate the Smaller. If one stubbornly abides in what is grasped within one's mind, turning one's back on the root intent of the sacred teaching, shifting from the constant to novel sounds, contending merely for anomaly—anomaly is insufficient to verify the root, and novel sounds cannot govern the ancestral principle. Yet they abandon anomaly as mere talk, not realizing that injuring the root is severe. Injuring the root leads to losing the synthesis; losing the synthesis leads to theoretical stagnation; theoretical stagnation leads to perilous confusion. If in such peril one does not reflect on its source, and in such exhaustion one does not search for its root, then externally one has no recourse to teachers, and internally it does not stem from allocated attainment. Is this not relying on knowledge [one presumes to have] while blocking what should be sought, becoming ensnared in what is obstructed, and bringing exhaustion upon what is open? Advancing, one does not understand the constant; retreating, one does not examine the new. Explanations do not rely on the root, and principles do not align with the ancestral teaching; yet they disparage former traditions and slander ancient figures. Is this the way to study and assist one's spontaneous nature? Now, when things are endowed with life, none is without an ancestor; when events have an origin, none is without a root. The ancestor and the root are the source of the myriad principles. When the root is lost, principle is severed; when the root rots, the branches fall. This is the destiny of nature; late successors are not otherwise. At this juncture, there are those who possess natural talent and profound knowledge towering above the age, yet have not seen the Larger Chapter to grasp its origin and lineage and clarify its theoretical framework; wishing to express their thoughts through the Smaller Chapter, they invent doctrines arbitrarily. Wishing to present their allocated attainments, they conspicuously set them forth, aspiring to surpass the common crowd, merely valuing fame and guesthood, exhausting their talents and intellects to construct abstruse frameworks for the sacred words, catering to the pleasure of the multitude while turning away from the root and violating the ancestral principle. How could they compare to the Larger Chapter? If they do not awaken, I fear they will follow their delusions and deceive future generations. For this reason, I have examined similarities and differences to test their emptiness and reality, tracing the stream to its source, each having its own destination. The Smaller Chapter's citation of the ancestral principle occasionally contains various discrepancies: sometimes the wording and events are identical without violating the purposive destination; sometimes it takes the opening essential and omits the subsequent elaboration; sometimes it arranges the order of topics, aligning head and tail; sometimes scattered across various chapters, it briefly captures the dark essentials. At times, such discrepancies and differences occur. Furthermore, the matters and enumerations in the Larger Chapter are extremely numerous and its phrasing vast and expansive; if one initially wishes to search for the root ancestral principle and clearly verify the import of events, it requires immense thought, and the labor of investigation yields little success. Moreover, examining and verifying delays affairs and cannot provide quick results. Therefore, I have now aligned dark matters side by side and set the two chapters in mutual contrast, clarifying where each belongs and distinguishing the brilliance of both the large and small. Although the principle may not be profoundly hidden, the alignment of matters is different; hence, I have selected what has been investigated, combining both the refined and the coarse, thoroughly researching the events and traces so that verification has a basis. Thus, I seek the source to find the reality, aiming to fix the principle's ancestral core. In this way, I examine the grand purport of the Larger Chapter, verify the summarized essentials of the Smaller Chapter, search for where the hidden and submerged subsist, and seek where similarities and differences reside; having a track to follow, it is precisely so. Linking head and tail, tracing the dark outlines, probing tangled knots, and discriminating stagnations, I ensure the text does not violate the purport, the principle does not betray the ancestral core, dwellings of verification have reliance, and discrimination does not lose subtlety. Furthermore, for those who aspire to chant and study, giving free rein to the spirit in the ancestral core, cultivating themselves in the dark realm, tracing the origins, checking falsity and testing reality—will it not be easy and level? If my demarcations violate the ultimate substance or my comparisons do not align with the principle's signposts, or wherever they rely—I hope to await future mahāsattvas who will graciously examine it thoroughly and supply what is not yet fully detailed.

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Linked texts (1)

出三藏記集 — 僧祐, Classical Chinese